“The other half is still figuring out how a dragon, a vampire, and a werewolf make this work long-term.” Spencer’s grin was wry. “But I’m committed to figuring it out.”
Zander kissed him, and Spencer returned his slow kiss with all the promise of the strong submissive his dearest had grown into. When he pulled back, Spencer’s eyes were dark, his breathing unsteady.
“Tonight,” Zander said, his voice rough with want, “you’ll kneel for her and offer her your submission on your terms, not mine. If this is to work, we all have to actively make it happen. Now, pants off, and go get the five-pound stainless plug. I want you feeling every ounce of it all day — every step, every shift, every time you sit or stand. I want youthinking about tonight, about her, about me, until you can’t think about anything else.”
Spencer shuddered, arousal flooding his scent. “Yes, Sir.”
The plug was a beast, with a skinny neck and a wide, unyielding bulb. Spencer squeezing himself closed all day to hold it in would make him extra-tight at the end of the day.
Not to mention, the bulb massaging his prostate all day would have him so horny he couldn’t think straight.
Zander watched Spencer remove his pants, retrieve the plug from the armoire, generously lubricate it, walk back, then kneel without being told, presenting the plug on open palms like an offering, and Zander felt a dark satisfaction coil low in his gut.
He accepted it, and Spence stood, turned, and bent forward, bracing his hands on the footboard.
Zander pressed the blunt tip against Spencer’s hole, and pushed. His boy exhaled, as if breathing out would make room for it, and Zander pressed harder. A soft whine escaped when the widest part stretched him open — then a long, shuddering groan as it finally slid past the ring and sank home, the weight settling against his prostate.
“Stand and turn.”
He did, and his cock jerked, a bead of precum on the head, but Zander ignored it. He cupped the back of Spencer’s neck instead, thumb stroking the pulse there.
“Knees, boy. Mouth open. Hands behind your back.”
Spencer obeyed instantly, chest heaving.
Zander freed his rock-hard cock and guided the head past Spencer’s lips, sliding deep on the first thrust, groaning at the wet heat, the tight clasp of throat muscles fluttering around him.
He didn’t rush at first. He let Spencer adjust, let him feel the stretch of jaw, the weight of cock filling his mouth, the plug shifting inside with every tiny movement. Then Zander’s hands slid into Spencer’s hair, and he began to move.
Steady at first, controlled rolls of his hips that dragged the length of his shaft over Spencer’s tongue, bumped the back of his throat, withdrew just enough to let his boy breathe before sliding back in. Spencer’s eyes watered, tears gathering at the corners, but he never pulled away. Never tapped out. He took it — every inch, every thrust — his boy’s cock untouched and pulsing.
Zander’s rhythm built. Faster. Harder. The wet, obscene sounds of throat-fucking filled the room, mingling with Spencer’s choked moans and the low, animal growl building in Zander’s chest.
He gripped Spence’s head tighter, holding him steady while Zander drove deep and fast. Eventually, he went in and held. His boy’s throat convulsed, milking him, and that was it. Zander’s balls drew up tight, heat exploding down his spine. He buried himself to the root and came with a rough, guttural sound, pulsing thick ropes straight down Spencer’s throat.
And his boy swallowed hungrily, throat working around the spurting cock, taking every drop without spilling a single one.
When the last shudder left him, Zander eased out slowly, letting Spencer’s lips drag along the sensitive length until the head came free. A thin string of saliva and come connected them for a heartbeat before it broke.
Zander tucked himself away with efficient movements, fastened his trousers, then reached down to tilt Spencer’s chin up. The wolf’s lips were swollen, shiny, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy with subspace and unspent need.
“Up. Put your pants back on.”
As always, his boy obeyed, and Zander asked, “What’s on your schedule for this morning?”
Spencer blinked slowly, voice hoarse. “Preparations for the Versailles Carnivale, Sir. Two balls nearly back-to-back adds a couple of complications, but nothing I can’t handle.”
Zander nodded, leaned down, and kissed his boy, tasting himself. Spence hugged him back, and he gave his boy as much time as he needed before he stepped away.
“I like knowing you’ll think of me all day, holding the plug in. Go. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Zander sat alone at his desk, letting himself feel the full weight of what was coming.
Tonight, they’d cross a threshold. The three of them together, building something new on the foundation of trust and choice.
And Zander would have to find a balance between letting her take the lead and making sure his boy’s needs were seen to.
Not Spencer’s wants, but his needs. The two were often wildly opposite.
